


coffee break

by nezstorm



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Always Female Stiles Stilinski, Daddy Kink, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Future Fic, Incest, Parent/Child Incest, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rule 63, Rule 63 Stiles, Vaginal Fingering, girl stiles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-31
Updated: 2018-03-31
Packaged: 2019-04-16 05:13:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14157531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nezstorm/pseuds/nezstorm
Summary: Stiles stumbles into the kitchen, still half asleep. She starts the coffee machine without even opening her eyes, muscle memory leading her towards the cupboard where they keep the mugs. She pulls out the two biggest ones, yawns loudly as she places them on the counter.





	coffee break

**Author's Note:**

> thought i'd repost one of my oldies, from the time i still used to write porn, for the cest week. i hope it's okay. this was my most read fic ever.

Stiles stumbles into the kitchen, still half asleep. She starts the coffee machine without even opening her eyes, muscle memory leading her towards the cupboard where they keep the mugs. She pulls out the two biggest ones, yawns loudly as she places them on the counter.

She buries her face in the uniform shirt she snatched on her way out of the bedroom and inhales the familiar mix of musk and cologne. The material is wrinkled from being haphazardly discarded last night, and the color doesn’t really suit her pale complexion, but she takes comfort in the way it smells and how it hangs loose on her frame: unbuttoned and revealing her blue panties, barely reaching past her ass.

The coffee machine announces being done with a ping that resounds in the otherwise silent house. She idly scratches at the back of her calf with her foot as she pours the hot liquid into the mugs, topping it off appropriately with sugar and milk.

Taking a sip from one of the mugs and making a soft pleased noise, she finally takes both coffees and ambles through the house and to the office. She smiles at what she sees, bites her lower lip as she feels her body tingle with want.

She watches him look up at her from the files scattered all over his desk. He’s wearing his uniform pants and an undershirt, the belt still hanging on the back of his chair. He smiles at the sight of her, a warm, affectionate thing, as his eyes travel over her body.

He crooks a finger at her and she laughs at that, but goes anyways. She’ll always come to him after all.

She deposits the mugs at the edge of the desk and then crawls into his lap, sitting astride him and immediately leaning in for a long, drugging kiss.

 

When they break apart his hands are skimming over her thighs, much like hers are over his shoulders. She traces the hem of his undershirt with a finger as she smiles at him coyly.

“I was thinking about you taking day off today.”

“That so?” her father hums, his thumbs rubbing circles over the insides of Stiles’ thighs. “And what would I use a day off for?"

She worries her lower lip between her teeth, runs her hands down over his firm chest.

“Maybe you could solve the case of my missing bra. Or maybe you could help me..  _ cover up _ the evidence."

He laughs a little at that. Hoists her up closer and skims his rough hands up over her flanks.

“And by evidence,” she continues with a grin, “I mean body. My body. Living body. Covered with your body.”

Her grin widens when he laughs at her and she uses the moment to pull the undershirt out of his pants and snake her hands beneath it, leaning in to press kisses along the line of his jaw. She makes a lime all the way up to his ear to nibble on the lobe and whisper all the things she wants him to do to her. All the things she wants to do for him

 

She rubs her hands over his stomach as she murmurs dirty promises into his ear, moaning unashamedly when he presses their bodies close. He presses his lips against her neck and groans when she wiggles playfully on his lap, his fingers digging into her skin as he moves with her.

Neither of them cares anymore about the coffee Stiles made, about the mugs or stains on the carpet when John leans them both forwards to sweep his hand over the desk. All he seems to care about is hoisting her up and laying her on the wooden surface.

The shirt fans out leaving all of her on display, for him to see, and she arches up to him, makes him laugh as she reaches for him making gimme hands.

“It's still a funny sight,” he says, and he runs his hands over her stomach, “you wearing my shirt.”

“I could take it off,” she suggests.

He just smiles and slips a hand inside her underwear, "Don't."

He uses his free hand to hold her down, keep her mostly still as she tries moving against his fingers to urge him on. He must feel playful today because he takes his time teasing her and pulling back until she lets out a whine of frustration.

“Please,” she begs, “Daddy, do something.”

“Mm, as you wish, baby.”

He finally starts moving his fingers, slipping one of them inside her, and Stiles grabs at his arm with one hand to hold on to something, the other one clutching at the edge of the desk as she writhes. She keens as he rubs circles over her clit with his thumb, her head thumping back against the desk.

The sheriff curves a hand around her jaw, tracing his thumb  along her lower lip. She catches the finger with her mouth and suck it in, laps at it with her tongue. She watches him look at her hungrily, her hips moving in tandem with his fingers as she tries to get him deeper, feel him more.

She grazes over his thumb with her teeth, suckles at it until he groans because he knows just how good her mouth is, how warm it feels around other things. But he always gives as good as he gets and he’s pushing a second finger inside her, and she lets his finger go with a moan.

“ _ Daddy _ .”

“I’m here, Stiles, I’ll take care of you,” he promises, voice rough, and leans in to catch her mouth in a hard, claiming kiss.

Stiles arches her body against his, moves her hands until she can claw at his shoulders, trying to anchor herself. She wraps her legs around him, pulls him closer that way until there's barely any space between them, his wrist trapped, but he still manages to work her up more.

He grinds his palm over her clit they way he knows drives her crazy, drinks the cries and curses from her lips as she tries to hold on. As she fights the heat coiling in her belly to make it last longer, needs it to last longer because she doesn’t want to come until he’s buried deep inside her.

She lowers one of her hands and tugs at his pants pointedly.

“I need you to take those off now,” she demands, “Right now, c’mon.”

John complies without more than a hungry groan, his control fractured, but it still makes her whine when he pulls away for a moment.

She grabs at him as soon as he’s back, latching onto him with her legs around his waist and arms over his shoulders, catching his mouth in a desperate kiss.

He laughs at that, pleased and happy, just as hungry as Stiles, and cups her face in his hands, slows down the kiss until is something almost achingly sweet.

Then he slips one hand to her hip and pulls Stiles even closer against him as he nibbles on her lower lip, sucks on her chin. He makes a trail down her chest and licks around one of her nipples as he moves her, so he can easily slip inside when he leans up to kiss her again.

Her nails dig into his skin, head thumping back against the desk as she groans. Finally.

He keeps one hand low on her back, holds her steady as he rolls his hip in a slow grind. It’s maddening, drives her crazy since she’s been riding the edge of orgasm for so long, but it’s also so sweet and good.

He puts his free hand on the desk, just next to her head and then he’s straightening up a bit to be able to move better, deeper; and she’s biting on her own fingers to stifle her needy moans.

She moves with him, pushes for more, for harder, for “Yes, yes, like that. Faster.  _ Daddy.” _

Heeding her request he picks up the pace and makes her want to scream.

She can barely hold her voice back, all of it too much to keep silent, to bite her moans back. She’s clenching around him, trying to keep him inside, and that's when he finally makes some serious noise himself.

“Fuck,” he curses. ”You feel so good, Stiles. My sweet girl. You're so good.”

His voice is strained, his hips falling out of rhythm, and it makes her move against him more, work her pelvis almost furiously.

“Don't stop, please, Daddy. Please,” she begs.

He moans her name, his fingers digging into her lower back and the sight of him with his eyes closed, lips parted and so close himself is what makes her finally lose it, what makes her spine arch as boiling heat washes over her body and she comes.

He keeps moving, fucking into her hard and deep, prolonging her orgasm as he chases his own, until he stills and groans deeply, rides it out in slow, languid thrusts.

They drift for a while after, bodies loose, and she enjoys the heat of him inside her.

It's only when he leans forward and wraps his arms around her that she comes back to her senses. But everything is still sharp and overwhelming so she hides against him, nose buried in his neck.

Her hands smoothie over his back and shoulders as he murmurs into her ear, kissing the line of her hair. She makes little agreeing sounds to whatever he's saying, not really able to focus on the words. She just lies there, spent and satisfied, warm and safe with him wrapped around her, growing soft inside her.

“I think I should make you coffee have more often,” she finally says.

He laughs at that and nuzzle her neck.

“I agree.”

 

END


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